Christmas at 221B
by roxy189
Summary: John struggles to wrap his Christmas gift for Sherlock, and soon realizes what's really important.


John sighed deeply to himself and tried to change his position on the floor to a more comfortable one. A crinkling of paper ensued. Before, he would have cared more, tried to smooth the paper out a little, make it conform back to it's original state on the roll. But now, he had given up.

The past few hours had been spent trying to wrap the carefully handpicked gift, a la Martha Stewart. And although John was considered the gift wrapping master among his family – at least he could get his corners right – this gift proved to be a little too much.

Picking the gift had been easy. Molly had helped him with the acquisition of it, because this was something you couldn't just go to the store and buy. He had tried, but the only options available to him looked like they belonged in a teenage girls bedroom and not resting on the decidedly messy mantlepiece in their apartment. He wasn't quite sure if his gift was completely legal, but that edge was something he thought Sherlock would find compelling.

Although through all that careful planning, John had neglected the most important step of gift giving. Actually _wrapping_ the gift. This had become blatantly clear to him earlier that morning as he sat sipping his cup of tea and reading the morning paper. He hadn't wrapped the gift.

John tried to compose himself as he thought about how he was going to achieve this unthinkable task. Sherlock had stepped out, thank god, but he had given no indication as to where he was going or when he would be back. He had to act fast.

His first instinct was to go out and buy a gift bag. Then he realized that today was Christmas Day, and all the shops were closed. _Bloody hell. _

"Mrs. Hudson!" John shouted as loud as he could, a little taken aback at the intensity of his own voice. A few seconds later he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"I'm not your housekeeper you know. You should-" She spotted the gift that John had brought out to the coffee table. "My heavens, not another one of _those_ things. I won't have it." She started to leave the apartment.

"Wait. I could really use your help."

"I'm not your-" She stopped in the doorway. "Oh get on with it then. What's your trouble?"

"Do you have any wrapping paper, a box, anything? I completely forgot I had to wrap Sherlock's gift until just now."

Mrs. Hudson looked a little confused by the request. "I'll see what I can do."

John sat drinking another cup of tea, waiting for her return. She reemerged with a half finished roll of gift wrap, tape, and some scissors.

"This is all I have." She placed the supplies next to the gift. "And best of luck to you, I wouldn't be able to wrap that."

This is what had brought John to his current state. At first he was ready and willing to smother the gift with the red and green striped paper, repeating a newly created mantra to himself as he wielded the scissors.

"This is just like examining a patient."

The more he said this, the more he started to believe it with the same enthusiasm as Dorothy as she clicked the ruby slippers. The more the clock slipped by and the tea drained, however, the more John realized that he was getting nowhere.

After several attempts at tugging the paper this way and that and many tapes and mistapes later, the paper lay in a crinkled mess, sandwiched uncomfortably between John's butt and the faded rug. For the first time in his life, he felt incapable of completing the task he set out to do. This made him uncomfortable.

10 am faded into 11 am, bringing with it a thought that seeped into John's mind. It made him sit bolt upright, giving the paper underneath him a final, satisfying crinkle. Sherlock didn't need a perfectly wrapped gift. He wasn't concerned with superficial objects, anyway. All he really cared about was that John was there for him. Nevertheless, John still wanted to give Sherlock the gift, unwrapped. He ran down to Mrs. Hudson's apartment to return the supplies.

Thanks for the offer, but I'm just going to give him the gift unwrapped."

"The least you could have done was taken the paper off your behind!" she remarked.

"Sorry." John flushed as he gave her the paper and darted back upstairs to await Sherlock's return. That came quicker than he expected.

"Sherlock." John waited until he had taken off his coat and plunked himself onto the chair across from him. "I have something for you. A gift."

"Funny you should mention it. I do too." They each reached out and swapped presents. Sherlock raised a questioning eyebrow as John opened his box. _Sherlock didn't wrap his gift either. What a relief. _

"A new sweater. Thank you." John pulled the red article of clothing out of the box to examine it. _Finally, a gift he actually liked. _

Sherlock held his gift in his hands for a long moment and then looked up at John, his eyes shining like a little kid who's just unwrapped a new action figure. "Is it real?"

"Yes. Very."

Sherlock gazed thoughtfully at it for another long moment.

"Do you like it?" John asked.

"It's perfect."Sherlock got up and placed the gift in its expected spot on the mantlepiece. "Although it could never replace you."

And all was merry at 221b.


End file.
